


When Words Fail (Our Kisses Will Be Enough)

by maccabird_23



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maccabird_23/pseuds/maccabird_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The blonde had taken forever asking him out. It had nothing to do with him being nervous or timid. Willy was the most cocksure Swede he knew but he didn’t know the right words in English. And David had no idea what he was trying to ask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Words Fail (Our Kisses Will Be Enough)

 

David was an adult in every way that counted. He paid his own rent, playing professional hockey in a foreign country. He was seventeen and making his own meals before going off to the rink. Throwing up a brave front as he navigated his way through streets littered with Swedish signs.

 

He ran his fingers along the yellow sticky notes that his mother made when he had first moved in. Reminding him how to fill the washer and take the lint out of the dryer. Every room had at least six sticky notes.

 

He didn’t speak much Swedish, spending most of his off time watching Czech and American movies. He learned English in school and from watching Friends after hockey practice.

 

He remembered watching Gossip Girls and how every teenager still lived at home, going to school and partying. In America they didn’t expect teens to grow up until much later. North American hockey players were similar. When a few had joined the team so many of them had never even done their own laundry.

 

David was ahead of the curve in that aspect, preparing to get drafted into the NHL. Getting into the habit of being responsible for what he ate and when he exercised. Teaching other players on his team how to make meals and cook them.

 

His boyfriend was one of them. Willy didn’t know how to do anything for himself, relying on his mom too much. David had chirped him hard in broken English, laughing at him between NHL 12 games.

 

Willy knew as much Czech as David knew Swedish. They talked to each other in English, getting frustrated and flustered when neither knew the word they were trying to get across.

 

The blonde had taken forever asking him out. It had nothing to do with him being nervous or timid. Willy was the most cocksure Swede he knew but he didn’t know the right words in English. And David had no idea what he was trying to ask.  

 

The Swede had been driving him home and he had stopped at a restaurant. It was fancy, with portions the size of David’s thumb and way out of his price range. He had pointed to his credit card, shaking his head as they sat down.

 

Willy had just smiled; telling him in he’d pay. David had rolled his eyes. Muttering _rich boy_ under his breath. There were candles on the table and David had blown them out because they were bothering his allergies.

 

The blonde had grimaced and pushed them off to the side. David had tried talking about hockey but Willy was having none of it. Telling him something about his hair. David hadn’t understood but suspected he was being chirped.

 

“Not many can have hair pretty as you.” David sniped back, running fingers through his messy hair. It was greasy and he needed to change the gel he used. Willy let out a frustrated sigh before sticking a fork of food out toward David.

 

“You have hair, dark, dirty blonde. Like model.” Willy fought through the sentence in broken English, grimacing at each word. “Try my shrimp?” It was a question but he poked the fork in front of David’s mouth with force.

 

David pushed it away, sticking his tongue out at the smell. “Seafood makes throat itch. Can’t eat or I’m sick.” Willy rolled his eyes, laying his fork down and blowing out hot air. It rustled the strands of hair just above his eye, making it flop back down.

 

David would have to be blind to not notice how attractive the Swede was. He was almost six feet tall, building muscle in his back and arms. His jaw was square, blue eyes radiating confidence. David had liked him for the longest but was unsure how the Swede felt.

 

At that moment Willy had motioned over a flower vender, putting up three fingers. The older man gave him three roses and David raised an eyebrow as Willy placed them on the table.

 

“For mother?” David had asked, finding it a bit weird that Willy would give his mother red roses. They were romantic, something you’d give a lover or date. And by the time he got them home they would probably be wilted.

 

“Not for mom. For yours.” Willy had pushed them closer to David, a tiny smile playing on his face as their hands touched. His fingers were strong but soft, warm and felt nice against David’s fingers. But once the words caught up to him he was even more confused.

 

“My mom coming next month. They all dead by then.” By the time the last word left his mouth Willy was already letting out an aggravated groan from the back of his throat. He gestured wildly from himself to David, folding his fingers together like he was praying.

 

David chewed at his bottom lip, trying to make sense of the gesture. “We pray after dinner?” He asked, folding his own finger, elbows leaning heavily on the table. The blonde didn’t respond well, grabbing at David’s hand before falling from the table and onto one knee.

 

“Will you be together with me?” Willy yelled to the resonant at large, down on one knee and still holding David’s hand. The entire restaurant went silent, couples that were having meals stopping to stare at them. Then the room erupted in claps, congratulating them in Swedish.

 

David blushed, not use to being cheered by Swedes unless he had scored a goal. He held tighter to Willy’s hand as the blonde hastily got back to his seat. He leaned over the table until him and David were mere breaths away from each other.

 

“I’m not asking marriage but for boyfriend. You can say no.” The Swede let out a long-suffering sigh but didn’t let go of David’s hand. The Czech looked around them, at the red roses and the melted candles. There was soft music playing on a piano from somewhere in the room. That’s when it clicked.

 

“Is this date?” David whispered and Willy nodded slowly.

 

“You want be my boyfriend?” Another nod.

 

“You hold my hand and let me win NHL 12?” Willy rolled his eyes, smiling around a laugh.

 

“Then we kiss on my couch?” The Swede blushed but nodded after a beat.

 

David leaned closer, whispering his next question into the blonde’s ear. “We have go on three date first? Or you want to stay on my bed tonight? I want you stay. But clothes can go.” Willy’s eyes went wide, frozen for a second. David took the opportunity to kiss the Swede.

 

His mouth was soft and it took a moment but he leaned into David’s mouth. He deepened the kiss, smiling around the blonde’s mouth. A hand came up, cupping the back of his neck and stilling him as he felt the Swede’s tongue lick as his lips. He opened up, tasting the other boy in his mouth.

 

The kiss would have gone on for longer, neither caring about the world around them but David’s throat started feeling itchy. As it became harder for him to breathe David broke the kiss and that’s when he remembered the shrimp.

 

The rest of the night was spent in the Emergency Room with Willy’s mom fussing over him and Willy falling asleep still clutching his hand. The team had chirped them hard the next day at practice but David couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

 

After the epinephrine had kicked in the rest had been wonderful, spending the entire time talking about their next date. They had decided that David would cook dinner for them. They would watch Means Girls because Willy had never seen it. Then they would spend the rest of the time making out and having sex.

 

David smiled to himself, starting the water for the pasta. He was just seventeen but an adult in every way that counted. He was playing the sport he loved, in a city he had grown fond of and cooking for his boyfriend.

 

Willy was one of the most talented, gorgeous men he had ever met. They were the stars of their team and going to be drafted the same year. They didn’t have to speak the same language or even understand each other half of the time to know that this was headed somewhere good. As long as they were together.

 

 


End file.
